


Kiss from a Rose (or a Star)

by ernyx



Category: MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Natasha is a violent woman but not to people who matter to her, Stella doesn't know what to do with all this attention, so many tropes so little time!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-11 14:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ernyx/pseuds/ernyx
Summary: Five times Natasha and Stella kissed





	Kiss from a Rose (or a Star)

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from tumblr @artificiallyimplantedmemories // feel free to send prompts for me here or there

**one**

     Barring broken bones, severe wounds, hypothermia, poisoning, starvation, or any other major medical issues, coming back from a mission means Natasha warring between the relief of a job well done and the adrenaline of a fight still coursing through her blood. It’s not always a pretty sight, seeing her down at the gym with bruises down her sides or on her face, a trickle of red seeping from a cut hastily covered with a bandage on the field, but she’s there anyway because it feels wrong not to be kicking or punching something at the moment.

     Stella’s down there too this night, stretching out and warming up to do a little target practice for a change, when Natasha strides in like a queen who has just defended her crown. She’s already loose-limbed and immediately attacks the bags, uncaring of the other people in the room shuffling away from her or staring in awe as her kicks make the chains rattle harshly, threatening to give way. She spins, covering every inch of the bag with her attacks, graceful as a dancer and deadly as the spider she’s named for. It takes about ten minutes for her to calm, to step back and breathe for a moment, switching her posture.

     That’s when the Captain approaches, putting a hand on her shoulder.

          “You shouldn’t do this while you’re hurt.”

     She motions to the purpling bruise on her neck, where Natasha was clearly strangled at some point, and then at her knuckles, which are bleeding since she hadn’t bothered to wrap them before throwing her punches.

          “If you’re asking me to go to medical, I’m not.”  
          “Don’t be stubborn. But at least get some rest so you heal?”  
          “What are you going to do– tuck me in bed and kiss it better?”

     It turns out that it’s exactly what Stella does, coaxing Natasha into her room, disinfecting her wounds and kissing the worst of them (as if it can solve anything) and pulls a cover up over her. Nat rolls her eyes and grins and pulls Stella in to give her a peck on the lips.

          “Go back to captain-ing around instead of playing nursemaid. I’ll be here when you get back.”

**two**

     It turns out that Natasha’s post-battle adrenaline is also good for something else: her libido. It’s not really a huge secret that Nat’s had a lot of one-night stands for just this reason, but she doesn’t flaunt it and the Avengers don’t mention it. As is, this battle went particularly well and she got to shoot a lot of people, so she’s just about  _thrumming._

     Tony had suggested a shawarma place after the Chitauri battle, so Bruce gets to pick this one, a lovely little jazz bar that serves good burgers and cold beer. Thor gets everyone a drink, despite Stella’s protests, and Natasha waltzes off to find some good vodka to suit her Russian sensibilities. She hits on five separate people in the span of about eight minutes and Clint rolls his eyes, but it turns out that when someone goes to approach Stella and ask for her number, something rears up in her and she finds herself plopping into Stella’s lap.

          “Want mine instead?”

     The man looks a bit befuddled, and just beats a hasty retreat.

          “What was that all about?”  
          “He wants you for your name. Not worth it.”  
          “I wasn’t going to say yes.”  
          “I don’t care.”

     And she kisses Stella squarely on the lips, in plain sight of the whole company.

**three**

     They’re up on the roof, drawing together, as has become habit between the two of them when they’re making an effort to relax– though it’s also half for the quiet companionship that they’ve found in each other. It’s a comfort greater than many others.

     Stella’s the one who breaks the silence today, looking over at Natasha curiously.

          “You go on a lot of missions where you, um, seduce people.”

     Natasha raises an eyebrow.

          “Yes, and?”  
          “Do you sleep with all of them?”  
          “[Боже мой](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2F.&t=NWIxN2UyNTk2MjBmNzhkMzc4MjQxYzdmNGYzZTViODQxMTU4YjZiMyxmMXZaVk91ZQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AjQY_UDoo8tQ6e-i1KEV9jQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fartificiallyimplantedmemories.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F124770866941%2Ffive-times-kissed&m=0), no! Imagine how many  _diseases_ they’ve got.”

     The spy mock-shudders, grinning. Stella’s brow furrows.

          “But you do kiss them…”

          “A lot of times, yes. It makes for an  _excellent_  distraction. It’s so much easier to pickpocket them when they’re busy trying to get their tongue in your mouth– or to plant a tracer, or poison them, or even shoot one of their lackeys on one occasion.”

     Stella’s eyebrows rise to her hairline. She forgets, sometimes, how vicious Nat is.

          “So you’ll kiss anybody for a mission, you’re saying.”  
          “Why, are you asking for one?”

     Natasha might be teasing, but there’s an affectionate undertone there, and Stella’s gone suspiciously silent, eyes back on her drawing. She snorts and tugs Stella in close.

          “All you had to do was ask.”

     And the redhead’s lips meet the blonde’s, gentle and tender and sweet, lingering for long moments before she pulls away with a sigh, a smile on her face. She’s wanted to do that for a while, although she’d never admit it.

          “And for the record? I don’t kiss my  _missions_  like that.”

     Natasha rises from her spot, sketchbook in hand, and walks away.

**four**

     Natasha’s gotten very good at covering up nightmares. She tends not to show any external signs of them, even while asleep, because anyone who found her like that could read her emotional state, her  _weakness_ , and use it against her. When she wakes, it’s with the softest of gasps, eyes snapping open before she slowly rises out of bed and resumes her normal routine.

     She’s a spy. Nobody needs to know about her past.

     But she falls asleep on the sofa during a movie night, finally in a place where she’s learned to relax around friends and trust them, at the very least, not to harm her when she’s unconscious. It’s not that she meant to, but the movie they’d chosen was utterly boring to her, some rom-com that she couldn’t be bothered to watch, and had simply drifted off. When she didn’t wake as the credits rolled, Clint just pulled a blanket over her and they left, dimming the lights. It was a miracle she didn’t even wake from the sound of them shuffling out. She simply remained tensely on the couch.

     Unfortunately, the reason for that was the grip of a nightmare, of screaming voices of girls being experimented on, of bleeding toes as they did their sauté jumps repeatedly, of being strapped down in a chair as words echoed in her empty head over and over and over…

          “Natasha?”

     The voice doesn’t rouse her right away, though it filters through into the dream. Someone was calling her, it wasn’t  _Natalia_ , it was  _Natasha_ –

          “Nat, wake up, you’re having a bad dream. Come on.”

     Stella is insistent, and shakes the spy gently after noting that she isn’t armed.

          “Nat, it’s okay. It’s okay, you’re just having a nightmare. Wake up.”

     And she jolts awake, tears in her eyes. Stella pulls her into warm arms, into a comfort she’d denied herself for so long, and she can do little but gasp and stutter and try not to sob.

          “It’s okay. I’m here.”

     Natasha pulls away, rubbing at her eyes, to look at the blonde woman, and offers a weak smile, the images from her past still running through her mind, the horror still fresh as if it were yesterday, always fresh because she dreamt so often, either of this or of the people she killed. There is no escape. And it must have shown on her face, because warm lips meet hers over and over, pull her back to reality, kept her close and grounded until she can breathe again without shuddering.

          “Thank you,” she whispers quietly, and Stella only smiles in reply.

**five**

     There was a betting pool going on within the Avengers, Natasha and Stella excluded, of when they’d end up together. Natasha wrote it off as stupid, given that she didn’t  _do_  relationships, and Stella… well, she didn’t actually know it was going on at all.

     Nevertheless, time found them snuggling up to watch movies together, curling up on a blanket in a park by the ocean, introducing each other to music and cuisines and cultures. It found them taking a road trip to Chicago just because they could, flying a Quinjet to Hawai'i because they wanted to piss off Stark, and competing in the training grounds to see who could take down targets faster and more efficiently.

          “Give it up, Nat, you guys are dating,” Clint says one day.  
          “We’re just friends, you know. Just like you and I are friends.”  
          “Yeah, well I don’t make puppy eyes at you to make you hang out with me.”  
          “You totally do! You just don’t succeed very often.”  
          “But she  _does._  You see what I mean?”

     Natasha shoves him and grumps, denying it.

     It’s not until Stella literally saves her life during a battle with a mutated snake about the size of Godzilla that something clicks in the redhead’s brain. She pulls the other woman aside during their standard after-fight meal (it’s Thai this time, Thor’s pick) and looks at her seriously.

          “Stella, are we  ** _dating_**?”

     The blonde-haired beauty collapses into giggles for a long moment before tugging Natasha towards her, a stupidly wide grin on her face.

          “You  _just_  figured it out?”

     And she kisses the spy soundly, ignoring Tony’s whoops and catcalls in the background.

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one from my days of RPing with Stella! She and Nat were adorable and I miss them.  
> Comments? Feedback? I'd love to hear it! Drop me a line either here or on my tumblr (artificiallyimplantedmemories) !


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